Well in that case, no need to sit around here and listen to all the old ladies wagging their tongues. [He says, lifting his heavy acolyte robes and kicking his leg clumsily out over the bench seat. His neighbor, a young female Hyrypian, gives his long glossy blue black braid a decisive tug in retribution. 'Don't stay too long,' she lectures him. He apologizes repeatedly as he hauls himself upright.

It takes some doing for him to straighten his heavy, intricately folded and draped robes and to lead Pidge from the long table. The near cut of the robes' lower half demands his stride be moderate. However, the moment they're out of sight of the table, past the glow of the largest braziers, he loosens how tight its wrapped and pinned, and fetches the metal weighted ends up over his arm so he can walk more freely.]

Don't tell anyone I did this. It's appalling.